


Drunk texts and Drunk dials

by TashanaAmbrosia



Series: With Two Hands [1]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Drinking, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Humor, One shots unless indicated by title, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Some Romance, Some of these are dramatic, Texting, kastle - Freeform, some sexy, some will give you feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-10
Updated: 2017-08-10
Packaged: 2018-12-13 12:31:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11759952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TashanaAmbrosia/pseuds/TashanaAmbrosia
Summary: Collection of one-shots or loosely tied pieces from Tumblr. The titles will clue you in.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A four-part humor series about Karen and drunk texting.

 

**Drunk texts and Drunk dials: Part 1**

She was never drinking with those two again, ever. She couldn’t even remember the cab ride home, or crawling into bed. Karen’s head was pounding as her cellphone let out a shrill ring. “What?!?” She groaned into the receiver.

“Touchy, touchy, Page. You wake up on the wrong side of your hangover?” Jessica’s voice chided.

“There’s a right side of a hangover?”

Jessica clicked her tongue against her teeth,“When you’re a professional there is. Seriously though, you okay?”

Karen buried herself further under her comforter, “I mean I feel like hell, but yeah… Wait did I do something last night?”

Jessica chuckled, “Not really. The other blonde in my life dared you to send me a picture of you mostly naked, but you didn’t so don’t worry.”

“Your Light is a bad influence.”

It was Jessica’s turn to groan, “Did I really call her that?”

“Only in front of me.”

“Good.”

Karen rubbed the back of her neck, “Wait why are calling to check on me, if I didn’t do the stupid thing?”

Jessica laughed, “Well you did call me three times at like three this morning and thought I was Castle and…”

“Ugh. Sorry. What the hell did I say?”

“Not much, just…” She broke off in an uncharacteristic giggle, “oh shit.”

“What!?!”

“You said that you sent me a pic of you in your black lacy things, but you didn’t send to me. But now I think I know who got ‘em.“

“Oh god. No. No. No, no, no.” Karen pulled up her sent messages and made a sound akin to a small animal dying.

“Sent them to Castle, huh?”

“Jessica, I need you to come over here, drink all the remaining liquor I have, cause I’m sober after this, then kill me, and bury me in an unmarked grave.”

“Don’t be so dramatic.”

“I sent Frank naked pictures!”

“Mostly naked. You said black lace.” Jessica pointed out.

“I’ll never be able to look him in the eye again.”

“Hm.”

Karen’s eyebrow shot up. That was not a good sound. That sound was a Jessica Jones thinking about how to say something, which wasn’t something she normally did. The PI was very blunt most of the time. “What was that sound for?”

“Nothing, just got off the phone with Castle before I called you.”

“What did he want?” Karen could only imagine how that conversation went. Was it possible to die from humiliation?

“Not much, just asked me to call you to wake you up so you could let him in. He’s on your fire escape.”

  
_______________________________________

Well, I guess I have a comedy bug. Hope you guys like this one. Sorry Karen.


	2. Drunk Texts and Drunk Dials: Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank and Jessica's conversation about those texts...

 

**Drunk Texts and Drunk Dials: Part Two**

The phone vibrated in his pocket and he rolled his shoulders, ignoring it for the moment watching the target in his scope. The weather had turned particularly nasty with the freezing rain leaving a crust of ice over him as he sat perfectly still observing the warehouse. He rarely looked at his phone immediately when it went off, but with it being so late/early it could be important. The phone vibrated a second, third, and fourth time in his breast pocket and he decided it was worth breaking the false sense of warmth his stillness tricked him into to see what was so urgent.

He never saved names in his phone, kept track of people by numbers and it was a very short list of people that had his number. The phone display read: 3:14am and all four messages were from Karen. He thought her joint story with Trish had been a bust and they called it a night tonight. Jones had texted that the three were going out to drink. The PI was much happier doing that, then playing the chase blonde reporters and try to keep them alive game. 

All four messages were multi-media and were downloading to his phone. He shouldered his firearm and started to the stairs, no sign of his target, might as well get inside and see what Karen found out.

The first picture was completely out of focus, just a blur of black and blonde. The second attachment was still downloading when a text of **“told you I’m no b”** came through. He cocked his head to the side as he pushed open the roof access door. Was that code for something? Was she in trouble?

The second, third and fourth message downloaded all together as his phone picked up the Wifi in the building. His eyebrow shot up to his hairline. What the hell? Another text came through, **“Jessica. Calling man in black. Be a good night ;) ;)”**

He snorted despite himself, trying to contain his chuckle. Karen was apparently that kind of drunk. His eyes lingered over the image of her in black lace for another minute before the phone vibrated again startling him.

This text was from Jones, “You up?”

He didn’t answer, but decided that work was definitely done for the night. He tried to push the images out of his mind, but every time he reached for the phone to delete it, he realized he’d be looking at it again. He shoved his hands in his pockets and started walking to clear his head. The wind bit into him, but he didn’t feel cold.

At 6am his phone rang, it was Jones.

“…”

“Well by that rosey greeting I’m guessing you’re still on the streets” Jessica sighed and spoke away from the earpiece, “Drink your water and go back to bed.”

“Did she get home okay?” He questioned crossing the street.

“I put her in a cab about 2. She started calling me at 3, but she thought she called you. Trying to get you visit. She’s fine, just really drunk.”

“Not like her.”

“I think her and Trish are bad for each other. We need keep our blondes apart.”

He made an affirmative sound. “Can you do me a favor?”

“Sure.”

“Can you call her and see if she’s awake.”

“You can’t call her?”

“Phone screen’s frozen.” He explained, “Won’t let me dial out.”

“Yeah, I can call her. You in trouble?”  The PI questioned.

“No almost to her fire escape.”

Jones chuckled and muttered something about stray dogs, but inquired, “And if she doesn’t answer?”

“I’ll freeze to death.”

“Cheery.”

“That’s me in a nutshell, Jones.”  He let out a small gruff laugh.

“I’ll call her, but don’t make fun of her for calling me for good time thinking I was you.”

“You’ve got your own blonde for that.”

Jones hung-up on him and he watched Karen fumble for her phone on her nightstand.

 


	3. Drunk Texts and Drunk Dials: Part Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or…. Jessica Jones has a kick-ass voice and sass for days……

**Drunk Texts and Drunk Dials: Part Three**

 

Her phone rang and she groped blindly for it as the blonde next to her on couch moaned out a complaint. “It’s loud, turn it off.”

Jessica threw a blanket over the reporter and forced herself up to answer the phone. “What, Karen?”

The other blonde reporter in her life just giggled drunkenly.

Jessica cussed under her breath, “I’m tired, I don’t wanna play the translate drunk to English game.”

“You said my name. You never say my name.” Karen hiccupped.

“What are you talking about?”

“Frank, come over.”

Jessica ran her hand down her face somewhere between frustration over the situation and embarrassment for the other girl. Those two needed to bone and get it over with.

“Karen, go bed.”

“You should put me to bed.”

Jessica pulled the phone against her chest to muffle her own laughter. She was never letting Karen live this down. She wished she would have been recording the call; she could’ve played it for Frank to shut him the hell up when he wouldn’t listen. She absent-mindedly wondered if the punisher was capable of blushing. He certainly had puppy- dog eyes for his blonde reporter.

Karen had continued talking, but Jessica only caught bits. “…sent Jessica some pics to prove to Trish I’m no b cup… I’m hot in black lace…”

Jessica was checking her text messages and didn’t see anything from Karen, but shot Frank a: “ **you up?”**  text.

“Karen, just lay down. I’ll swing by later.” Jessica hung-up and prayed that Page either got the message or the right number. She sat back down on the couch next to Trish. She really should carry her to bed, they’d both be sore if they slept like this. She leaned against the back of the couch and closed her eyes for just a moment…

 

.:.

 

…“ _Jessica…_ ”  _His_  voice whispered into her ear like a snake’s tongue. Jessica gasped out loud scrambling blindly just trying to get away.

“It’s okay, Jess.” Trish’s voice, although hushed by sleepiness, was there instantly pulling her back to reality. Trish pulled Jessica into a sideways hug. “It’s just us. It’s okay.” She whispered the street names quietly into Jessica’s hair for a few minutes, until her breathing returned to normal.

Jessica wrapped her arms around Trish, grateful for the grounding affect. “Sorry.” She gruffed out.

“Don’t worry about it. What time is it?” Trish looked over Jessica’s shoulder to the clock on the wall and groaned. “It’s not even 6 and I’m still drunk. I am going to bed… Shit, I gotta pee.”

Jessica rolled her eyes as the blonde bailed off the couch and stumbled to the bathroom. She checked her phone, no missed texts, but there were three more calls from Karen and two voicemails. She made a mental note to listen to those later. She needed to stay the fuck out of this whole thing. She was not a vigilante match making service, but something about the conversation with Karen last night while watching Trish dance… Something about light? Maybe…

Fuck it, it wasn’t like she was capable of making healthy life choices. She dialed the unmarked number in her phone and heard the other end picked up, but it was silent.

“Well by that rosey greeting I’m guessing you’re still on the streets”


	4. Drunk Texts and Drunk Dials: Part Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This part takes place after Part 1 & 2, since Part 3 was kinda prequel-ish… I would love some feedback on the format of the texting, don’t know it’s really clear or not. Bonus points if you get the jokes in their phone number identifiers.

**Drunk Texts and Drunk Dials: Part Four**

 

 

  
**917-181-9036:You can come in. Second window still doesn’t lock.**

**EW &F: Not safe. Need to fix it**

**917-181-9036: I’m on the fifth floor. You and the other guy are the only ones that visit via the fire escape, weather permitting. No one is robbing me in this weather.**

**EW &F: There’s anther guy? Cold**

**917-181-9036: Don’t be flirty. It’s weird.**

**EW &F: Not flirting. Got 3" of ice last night. Really cold.**

**917-181-9036: Then come in.**

**EW &F: You gonna crawl out from your blanket?**

**917-181-9036: No. This is where I live now.**

**EW &F: It is your apartment**

**917-181-9036: Damn-it, just come in.**

He climbed in the window and closed it behind him. Instantly feeling a rush of heat from being inside. His pocket vibrated again, but he ignored it and took off his coat and boots. He didn’t want to leave a trail of icy slush through her space.

He wanted to ask her if she needed water or coffee or food, but it seemed weird to break the silence. He did, however, want coffee for himself. He started the coffee pot and pulled down two cups reflexively.

He finally pulled his phone out of pocket, the text was from Jones, **917-911-0911:** **She let you in?**  He replied affirmatively and looked at the person-shaped lump of blankets on Karen’s bed. This whole thing was ridiculous. It wasn’t like he hadn’t done dumb things while drunk. And honestly she didn’t have anything to be that embarrassed about, it wasn’t like he would use it against her.

  
He tapped open their conversation, the funniest part of this whole thing was that only one of the pictures was actually incriminating. The first picture was just a blur of blonde and black; the third picture was of her fingers and her eye, not sure what that pose was supposed to be; the fourth picture was just her apartment, she must have flipped the camera app; but that second picture… The second picture had been taken at an odd angle, but her smile was so bright and the black lace ‘outfit’ was the perfect mix of sexy without being actually obscene that it was going to kill him to delete it. It wasn’t even for him. She hadn’t meant for him to see it, and now it was in his mind’s forever. And part of him, most of him, wanted to see if she was still wearing it. He needed to stop thinking like this.

Another text from the ‘invisible’ reporter, **917-181-9036: There’s food in the fridge. No eggs. I’ll hurl.**

  
He smirked, like that was what he was in mood for. **EW &F: Not hungry**

  
 **917-181-9036:**   **I’m embarrassed and hung-over. Just get what you want quickly and quietly.**

  
He arched his eyebrow,  _enough of this bullshit._ He marched over to her bed and pulled the comforter away from the very startled Karen. She  _was_  still wearing the black lace from the pictures and had her phone clutched over her chest. He plucked the phone away from her and set it on the nightstand.

He knelt in front of her on the bed, one knee between her legs and his other foot on the floor. He leaned into her space, chest to chest, with one hand on her mostly bare back. He forced her forehead against his and before kissing the sense out of her, he warned, “What I want, isn’t quiet and certainly won’t be quick.“


End file.
